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I've been using this site for a week or so now. It has felt really liberating. There's something great about saying things I hold onto that are true, but that I don't think anyone in my life should hear. Like the csa or physical abuse, it's something I want to express, to feel heard or validated I guess, but that I don't want to burden the people I love with. So, in that spirit, I'll use this platform to express something else that I've harbored forever. I have had gender dysphoria for as long as I can remember, since I was 4.

Sometimes it has been really severe, and sometimes less. I have never liked being a man, it doesn't fit, it's a mistake and I would give anything if I could roll the dice again and start over in the right body. As a child I fantasized about magic or new scientific procedures that, like a trick, could change me into a girl. On those occasions I've considered suicide, I've often dreamed about what it might be like if I could just end this round and restart again, but the way I was supposed to. 

I feel weird when people say my name. It makes me very uncomfortable when other men call me a "dude" or "man." There's always a delay where I make the connection between their words and the fact that they are talking about me. Then there's the disappointment.

I feel constantly disconnected from the person I see on my personal documents, applications for jobs, forms I fill out, my signature, everything that uses that name and face. My body is like a costume I can't take off. One would think you would get used to it, but I haven't. It's like the effects of the abuse, that you might think at some point would become so normal you just get acclimated - but you never do. It's like a constant surprise. Like I have the emotional memory of a fish. 

So there it is. I think I did an ok job articulating it. If someone is reading this, this the first time I have ever put this to words. I have never told anyone - not therapists, not girlfriends, not my family, not my friends.

And as it stands, I feel like I'm far enough in that all I have to do is convince myself to keep going a little longer. It's just a few more decades. My dad died at 60: I can do three decades if I live as long as he did. Most of the men in my family don't make it much further anyway. Plus, the alternative hardly seems like a way out - from what I gather, it's just more hardship - except in that case, I would force everyone else to hurt alongside me. No one asked me to be this way, and I feel that it might be unjust to put anyone else through it.


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